The Flight of Stella

Literotic asexstories – The Flight of Stella by Starlight,Starlight The Row

It was the most appalling row I had ever been involved in. One of those times when every hurt, great or small, every remembered insult and rejection, is hurled back and forth between the yelling, shrieking participants.

I had walked in on them unexpectedly. Normally they would have had another two hours with me absent, but I had left work early, not feeling very well.

They were naked together. His head was between her legs and he was licking her cunt. I walked all unsuspecting into the bedroom, and they obviously had not heard me. I stood there paralysed as I took in the scene. My husband with Miriam, his own sister.

It was Miriam who saw me first. She tried desperately to both cover her nakedness and warn Clive. As she pushed him away from her groin he half-turned and caught sight of me. I saw the blood drain from his face and he knelt stock still with his face remaining half turned to me. It was like a snapshot taken unexpectedly, the people in the picture frozen in time. It is a scene I shall carry with me for all my life.

Nothing was said for at least thirty seconds, and I could see Clive’s erection fading like a punished dog skulking away into a corner. I was the first to break the silence. “What the bloody hell do you two think you’re doing?” I screamed.

At the sound of my voice Clive made a dive for his clothes and started to try to drag them on to cover his nude vulnerability. He was shaking so much that he fumbled, putting on items inside out, and making himself look ridiculous.

It was Miriam who made the first verbal response to my yelled question. She had obviously decided upon the brazen approach. “All right, so you’ve caught us, so what?”

All ready feeling unwell, my mouth was dry and I was shaking all over. I gasped out, “How long has this been going on?” Miriam, a note of hysteria rising in her voice, came in to the attack. “If you must know, you stupid cow, its been going on for years. Its been going on from before you got married, and if you’re too deaf and blind not to have seen it, that’s your problem.”

Clive, now partially dressed, tried to stop her. “Miriam, don’t…” Miriam cut across him, “You haven’t got the guts to tell her so I had to. Its time it was out in the open, and if she doesn’t like it, she knows what she can do.”

She turned on me again. “You’ve put me down long enough with your patronising, high and mighty ways, you snooty bitch, well now you know that your loving husband prefers me to you, so why don’t you just pack your things and piss off!”

Miriam had been widowed five hears after her marriage. That was nearly ten years ago and I had wondered why no other man had entered her life. She was good looking in a sensual sort of way but now I knew the answer to my “Why” question. She had been screwing my husband.

There now ensued an exchange of insults battered back and forth at the tops of our voices, while Clive made desperate efforts to stand between us. At one point, I struck out at him, leaving a red weal across his face and me thinking I had broken a couple of fingers.

Miriam began her own re-clothing process, and as she got naked off the bed, another snapshot impinged itself on my brain. Her body unmarked by child bearing, her breasts standing out firm and proud, unlike mine, which carried the faint marks of Jamie’s birth.

Eventually I staggered out from the room, went into the toilet, and vomited. When I finally came out of the toilet and washed my face, Miriam had gone.

The Flight.

Clive, now left to face me on his own, started yammering and stammering out obsequious apologies and explanations. If I had not been so angry, distraught and confused, I might even have had pity on him in a contemptuous sort of way. As it was, I did not want his apologies or explanations.

The very last words I spoke to him as I threw some clothing into a bag, were, “You filthy, incestuous bastard. Don’t you ever come near me again. Don’t try to see me or speak to me.”

With the few things I had packed, I rushed out of the house with Clive yelling out, “Where are you going?” I climbed into my car, and took off down the street. I made no conscious decision about where I was going, but at some point became aware that I was heading for the beach holiday shack 400 kilometres away.

I suppose I was going to a place where I would feel secure. A place where I might hide away in my misery, living over and over again the awful vision of those two as I walked in on them. I wanted to see and hear no one, and the beach shack was the very place, isolated as it was, and 40 kilometres from the nearest small town.

Of the drive to the shack, I have no memory, except continual flashbacks to the bedroom scene. I wept, and how I managed to drive through a constant blinding veil of tears, I do not know. I must have been a hazard to everyone else on the road.

I arrived at the shack well after it was dark. We normally only used the place during the warmer weather, but now, unseasonably, an icy wind was coming in off the sea.

We kept a small stock of tinned food, blankets and some items of clothing at the shack, so I would be all right for a few days at least. My main practical problems were money and what to do about my job. I had run off with only what was in my handbag, which amounted to a few dollars. How I was to get more I did not know. I could contact the company and ask them to forward what was owing to me, but that would not last long. In any case, there was no telephone at the shack, and the nearest post box was some 10 kilometres up the road where there was a small group of houses and a combined, post office, garage and shop.

These problems, however, where for later. On my arrival, I felt ill and exhausted. I had not eaten for hours, and although I was not really hungry, I opened a tin of beans and ate half of them. After that I got into bed and tried to sleep.

I was fortunate in a way because I felt so unwell I went to sleep quickly, but my sleep was full of nightmare images of Clive and Miriam making love and laughing at me as I stood looking at them.

Next day I was, I suppose, rather delirious. I staggered about the house, lighting the wood fire and carrying in fuel from our stockpile. I ate little and vomited several times. I managed to drag the couch in front of the fire, and covering myself with a blanket, slept fitfully for hours, waking only to refuel the fire.

The next few days went by in a haze of physical and emotional misery, but as the sharp edge of my wretchedness started to blunt, the practical problems began to emerge. “What was I to do? Where could I go? I can’t stop here for ever.” I had always felt so secure, with Clive doing most of the decision making, and via my job having money of my own. Now I was cut off from these things.

Of course, I could have gone crawling back to Clive, but for this, I was too proud. Even if I did go back, would his sexual relationship with his sister cease? If it did stop, would there be other women? The thought of any physical contact with him still sickened me. I knew there was no way back along that route for me.

The Arrival.

As the mist in my head began to clear, I tried to recall how long I had been at the shack. I worked it out to be five days, and even with my frugal eating, the supply of food was looking much depleted. I would have to go to the nearest town and spend my few dollars on some supplies and petrol for the car.

I decided that if I was going to the town, now was the time to write a letter to my employers, telling them I would not be returning, and asking if they would forward what was owed to me to the little post office. I could pick it up there.

I was in the midst of writing the letter when I heard a vehicle coming down the track from the road, and approaching the house. “My God, its Clive. He’s worked out where I am.” I felt sickness returning to me. I did not want to see him, and above all, I did not want him to touch me. As these thoughts passed through my mind, the door opened, and my son, Jamie, walked in.

“Thank God I’ve found you,” he burst out. I had risen, and he came to me and took me in his arms. “I’ve hunted for you all over the place. What the hell is going on? I got home from my trip and found the place empty. I waited all that night and next day for you or father to turn up, then I contacted anyone likely to know where you both were. Nobody knew anything, or if they did, they were not telling. I finally found dad at Aunt Miriam’s. All I managed to squeeze out of him was that you had had a row and you had cleared off. He said he didn’t know where you were.”

So, my question about the future and Miriam was answered.

Jamie went on, “I looked around the house and saw some of your things, and most of dad’s, were gone. So please, what’s happening?”

I led Jamie over to the couch. How was I to tell him about the situation? Could I say, “I caught your father fucking his sister, and so I’ve left him”? True though it was, it is a hard thing to say to a young man about his father, so I began, “I found it necessary to leave your father.”

Of course, that begged more questions than it answered, and Jamie was not going to let it go at that. “Why, what did he do?” I tried the escape hole of saying I found out Clive was having an affair, but Jamie did not let it rest at that. Finally, it was all out.

Jamie was not as shocked or surprised as I thought he would be. He said he had wondered from time to time why his father spent so much time at Miriam’s, giving only feeble excuses for the visit. He had also come home a few times to find Miriam with his father, “Looking as if she owned the place.”

I felt rather foolish that I had not taken note of these things, but I suppose I am not the suspicious type. I took Clive and our marriage vows on trust.

Jamie and I talked on for some time and I suddenly remembered that I had intended to go for supplies. With Jamie now with me, this errand was even more necessary. He had announced he was on three weeks leave, and now he had found me, he said he would like to stay for at least a week. I told him about the need to shop and the money problem, and he responded, “That’s okay, I’ve got plenty.” We went together to buy.

The Way of the Flesh.

Jamie had been with me for two days. Whatever physical sickness had ailed me had cleared up, and the emotional pain had diminished to the point where something like normal functions were operating.

The weather had changed and the atmosphere warmed up considerably. Jamie, who would hardly leave my side, came with me for walks along the beach and inland through the trees that came close to the beach.

The exercise and fresh air began to invigorate me and this started to reveal a problem I had not allowed for; my sexual needs. Clive had not been an ardent lover for many years, the reason for this now being obvious, but he had satisfied me to some extent. Without him what was I to do with my sexuality?

Jamie and I had decided that if the weather remained warm, we would go off to a nearby cove the following day for a swim. That night I had to masturbate for the first time since leaving Clive.

The weather favouring us, we went off for our swim next day. As we expected, the cove was empty apart from ourselves. We changed into our swimming gear in front of each other. As I looked at Jamie, with his fine body and, I must say, his very adequate male organ, I felt myself getting aroused. I pushed the thought away, and we took our swim.

After our swim, we lay sunning ourselves. I went into a doze, and when I woke, it was to find Jamie leaning on his elbow looking at me. I smiled and asked, “Time to get back?” Jamie, still looking at me, said, “Mother, I think you look terrific.” I came back with a bit of false modesty, and pointing at a birthmark said, “I’m not so sure about that. Look what you did to me.” Jamie leaned over me and kissed the mark I had pointed to. “I know I can’t kiss it better,” he said, “so I leave my mark on you for a second time.” We both laughed.

I laughed, but at Jamie’s kiss a warm ripple had run along my spine, finally coming to rest in my vagina, and causing a little throb in my clitoris. The place he had kissed was at the top of my thigh and close to my sexual organ.

I decided that we had better break up this situation and said hurriedly, “Let’s get dressed.” I started to take off my swimming things, but this time tried to do this so that Jamie could not see my more provocative parts, like my breasts. I did, however, see that Jamie had an erection. “My God,” I thought, “I’m arousing my own son.”

That afternoon I took a solitary walk along the beach. My mind was in a state of confusion. On top of my trauma over Clive and Miriam, I was now experiencing sexual feelings for my own son, and it seemed, he was feeling the same towards me.

I was vulnerable and feeling the return of my sex drive, and alone with Jamie in an isolated shack. I did not fear that he would rape me or make any sort of sexual move towards me. What I feared was what I might do.

An argument raged back and forth in my mind as I endevoured to come to terms with my feelings. “You love Jamie, you have always loved him. Yes, but it was a mother’s love without sexual content. Are you sure it had no sexual content? No, but it was never conscious. There are many incestuous relationships between mothers and sons. But they are unnatural. Are they unnatural? Surely, sexual intercourse is one of the most natural outcomes of real love. But it is against the law. Certainly, but that concerns those not having reached the age of consent. In any case, if incest is so unnatural, why do we need a law for it? What about Jamie? He is standing by you, but you saw for yourself he wants you. What about the pain he feels wanting you, but not able to have you?”

So, the argument raged on within me. One side was countering the other. The very thought of Jamie entering me roused me to a terrible pitch of sexual desire, and I had to slip into the bushes abutting the beach to masturbate.

As you will no doubt know, masturbating does little to relieve sexual tension when you desperately desire a loved person that is denied to you. Such was my case, but I knew that it was me who was denying myself to Jamie. I was as sure as I could be that if I offered myself to him, he would take me.

I have often wondered since how many mothers have denied themselves the fulfillment of the love they have for sons. They may deny, but I am sure they live a lifetime regretting they had let the chances pass, perhaps many times.

We passed the evening in an atmosphere of growing sexual tension that was almost physically palpable. That morning, we had momentarily glimpsed each other’s naked bodies, but I realised that the feelings this had sparked in me, and I was sure in Jamie, was but the culmination of feelings long hidden from each other and ourselves.

At last, we went to bed. I masturbated in a desperate effort to reduce my sexual tension and tried to deny myself a vision of Jamie as I orgasmed. It did not work. As I turned on my side to try to sleep, I heard a distant cry from Jamie. It was a drawn out, “Ahhaa.” I knew it was the cry of a man ejaculating. My heart went out to him, but like a coward, I did nothing but sleep very badly.

The morning revealed the night of poor sleep. We were both very edgy, and seemed to be trying to avoid any physical contact or even verbal exchanges. Each of us, when we thought the other was not looking, let our eyes roam over the bodies we longed to possess.

It was a beautiful day, the sun heating the atmosphere and tempting me to suggest a swim to cool off, but I dared not. I wished I had a one-piece swimming costume available to give maximum cover of my body, but I only had my very tiny bikini, which would make things worse for Jamie. His little swimming shorts were designed to barely cover his manhood, so I would be suffering as well, especially if he had an erection.

Finally, it was Jamie who suggested the swim. I thought to tell him I would stay behind, but the temptation to see his young vital body again got the upper hand, and I agreed to accompany him.

We went to the cove and in changing, tried to hide from each other. We had our swim and then lay in the shadow of a rock. As on the previous day the cove was deserted. By now I was in a terrible state of sexual arousal and looking across at Jamie I saw his huge erection.

I think I must have lost my mind temporarily, I could no longer hold back. I cried out, “Oh Jamie, Jamie, I want you so badly,” and I came over him kissing him passionately as he responded and we were almost trying to consume each other. My hand went down to remove his briefs and take his penis and he moaned, “Mother, mother, I need you so much.” “I know, my darling,” I whispered.

His hand found my opening and penetrated. How I wish I had the words to express the release this simple contact brought to me. I had been turned back at the very gates of hell, to find myself in paradise. We both wept as we caressed and fondled each other. Jamie took of my bikini. It was that fist time, insane exploration of each other, that betokens the longer and slower searching of each other’s bodies that is to come in the future.

Jamie was moaning and crying out, “Mother, I love you. I love you mother. I want you, I need you.” His head came down between my opened legs and his tongue found my clitoris. I was begging and pleading with him, “Jamie, come into mother. Come in my love. Please don’t make me wait, I want you so badly. Love me, my darling.”

He said, “I do love you, mother,” then he penetrated me. His long, thick manhood fitted tight to the walls of my vagina, and I was screaming as I tightened my vaginal muscles around him, holding on to him as if I would never let him go. It was a battle between us as he fought the grip of my muscles to slide his penis up and down in me.

I felt his orgasm approaching and releasing myself from all restraint I came with him. We screamed and wept as we passed through this wondrous climax. I felt his sperm hammering in and my own fluids pouring out of me. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. All our denied and pent up passion found its towering fulfillment in that moment. Then we were momentarily sated. Jamie held me, burrowing into him, as we murmured words of love to each other.

What Cannot be Denied.

I think that once you have loved as Jamie and I loved that afternoon, there is no turning back. Only death can separate two such lovers, and even then, a spiritual affinity continues. I also think that it is a rare thing for two people to find themselves in each other as Jamie and I did. Mostly we settle for second best as I had with Clive.

Both Jamie and I now knew that our future destiny lay with each other. How that was to be worked out practically we hardly knew, but worked out it would be. The spiritual bond between us had always been there, now we were united in a physical bond.

For the rest of Jamie’s leave from work we were hardly sexually separated, and even when we were physically apart, it was as if we were still in union.

As the time came for Jamie to leave, our plans were laid. Granted there were complications, but in simple terms, our arrangements were these: I would divorce Clive. Jamie would purchase a house that would in part be paid for from whatever the settlement was with Clive. I should go and live with Jamie.

The settlement of affairs became a bit more urgent when I was found to be pregnant with Jamie’s child. I was thirty-nine, and I was warned that this was rather late in life to give birth, but I went ahead, just as I have with two more since then.

I was so certain of Jamie’s love that I determined I would never use any contraceptive method, and had Jamie tried to use something himself, I should have prevented him. So, whereas I had always gone to great lengths not to get pregnant to Clive, once Jamie was born, I would always be open and without any barriers for Jamie.

I would always have been happy to carry within me the fruit of our love, but sadly, after the third child I bore Jamie, I was told there would never be any more. This did nothing to diminish our lovemaking. We are as urgent in our need for each other as we ever have been.

A Postword.

My little story of loss and the finding of love is now told. I have but one thought to add. I wonder how many mothers and sons have failed to find the love Jamie and I have, because they fear?